


Reconnecting

by phoenixnz



Series: The Chronicles of Martha and Jonathan [29]
Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 17:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixnz/pseuds/phoenixnz
Summary: After a tough year, Jonathan just wants to reconnect with his wife.





	Reconnecting

“Clark?”

Jonathan climbed the stairs to the loft. His tall son was sitting at the desk, doing his homework, but the dark-haired teen looked up at him when he reached the top step.

“Yeah, Dad?” He frowned as Jonathan took a moment to get his breath back. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his family, but ever since he’d been given the Kryptonian abilities, temporarily anyway, his chest had felt a little tighter every time he’d exerted himself.

He sat down on the couch. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Clark turned his chair around to look at his father, his expression showing worry. Jonathan shook his head. It wasn’t anything bad.

They’d basically had the year from hell. It had started with Clark going slightly off-the-rails when he’d encountered red K, as the peculiar strain of red meteor rock had come to be called, then his search for answers as to his heritage. His relationship with his wife had hit a bumpy patch when Martha’s work with Lionel Luthor had led to the man getting too close to her and Clark’s secret. Finally, the demands from the ghost or whatever of Clark’s birth father to take up his training which had led to his son’s disastrous attempt to defy those demands by blowing up the ship.

The three months following Clark’s running off to Metropolis had been difficult ones. Still dealing with the loss of the baby, Jonathan and his wife had spent everything they had trying to find their son, only to almost lose the farm in a foreclosure. As much as he still didn’t quite trust Lex Luthor, the boy had come to the rescue by paying off the mortgage and handing the deed back to them, without any apparent ulterior motive.

Jonathan would have sacrificed everything to get his family back together, knowing his wife was hurting just as much as he was. He couldn’t help remembering the things he’d said to Clark when they’d been in the hospital. Grief-stricken over the loss of the long-hoped-for baby, he’d confronted his son and berated him for not thinking of the consequences. He’d never dreamed that Clark would take his words so much to heart and think that Jonathan blamed him for the baby’s death.

If anyone had been to blame, it was Jor-El, he thought. His son hadn’t been ready for whatever the Kryptonian had wanted Clark to do. He was only sixteen. Jonathan remembered being that age and he’d hardly been emotionally mature then. Maybe on Krypton things had been different, but Clark had been raised by humans.

He’d tried to tell the ghost/spirit/avatar – whatever it was, that, when he’d gone to the Kawatche cave to try to figure out how to get Clark to come home. He’d never considered the possibility that Jor-El would give him abilities in order to do so, or that there might have been another way. After all, he’d used green meteor rock to weaken him before. As much as he’d hated hurting his son, it had been the only way.

Clark had been home now for a month and while things seemed okay, they weren’t quite as ‘normal’ as they had been before everything that had happened.

Jonathan wanted to put all that behind them. He needed a way for him and Martha to reconnect and it was going to take more than a fried chicken picnic, he had thought, recalling the disastrous attempt to celebrate their anniversary the year before.

“Dad?”

“I was hoping you might be able to help me with something,” he said.

“What?”

“Well, I wanted to take your mother out. Somewhere special. Just the two of us.”

The trouble was, he had no idea what to do. He thought he’d sound his son out and see if they could come up with something.

“What about a movie?” Clark asked. “I bet we could get Lana to arrange something at the Talon.”

He nodded. It was an idea. With Lex’s help, Lana had had the theatre restored at the coffee shop and now showed mostly art-house movies.

Still, it wasn’t quite what he was looking for. He wanted to do something to recreate the early days of their romance, before he and Martha got married. He supposed he could recreate their first date, but somehow a picnic in the barn just didn’t seem appropriate either.

“Why don’t you take her to dinner in the city?” Clark suggested.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Why? So you can call all your friends and throw a party?”

Clark rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

He laughed. “No. I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you’re old and grey, son.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just wait until you have kids of your own, son. You’ll understand.”

Clark was silent. Jonathan wondered if he was thinking about Lana, his on-off girlfriend. As much as he liked the girl, he didn’t think Lana was right for his son. She had a lot of growing up to do and needed to find herself. Without making Clark a casualty in the process.

“Maybe you should talk to Lex,” Clark suggested. “I bet he could arrange something.”

Jonathan bit back a refusal. Sure, Lex had been an incredible help the past month, but he didn’t think the advice of a young man who thought the only way to impress was with huge gestures would suffice. He wanted something simple. Something that was …

“Eureka,” he said softly.

Clark stared at him. “Dad?”

“I know just the thing.”

Martha was in the Talon delivering the usual order of baked goods. Lana smiled when she saw the trays.

“These look amazing, Mrs Kent.” The young brunette took the tray off her and carried it over to the counter, opening a ledger.

“How are you doing, Lana?” Martha asked.

The girl paused in her writing. “I’m okay.” She looked up. “It’s been kind of … strange, I guess.”

She knew Clark and Lana had been keeping their distance. Clark, because he didn’t want to keep on hurting his on-off girlfriend and Lana probably because she was confused about where the relationship stood. Martha wanted to advise her that if it was meant to be then things would settle down, but she just wasn’t sure the two teens really were meant for each other. If they were, she was sure Clark would have been confident enough to share his secrets with her.

She loved having her son home, but couldn’t help noticing things had been a little tense. She wondered sometimes if Clark had decided that the only reason he’d come back was to straighten things out, but had intentions of leaving again. She supposed he was afraid his birth father would force him to do something drastic, like blowing up the ship. He wasn’t ready to accept his destiny, whatever that entailed.

Things had changed in the past couple of days. She’d noticed Jonathan and Clark whispering together but as soon as they spotted her they’d suddenly stopped whispering and acted like they had something to hide. Those two were up to something and she was dying to know what it was.

She drove home, having delivered the last of the produce. Jonathan had suggested she take the car as he’d claimed he’d heard a rattling in the truck and wanted to check it out. The truck, while not exactly new, was still a fairly recent model, unlike the truck which Roger Nixon had blown up to test Clark. There was no way it should have engine troubles, she thought.

It had been a beautiful, sunny day and the sun was beginning to drop as she turned into the gateway. The truck was parked on the gravel driveway. Martha parked the car in the garage and got out, heading for the house.

“Hi Mom.”

She turned as Clark stepped out of the barn.

“Oh, Clark. I didn’t see you there. What are you doing?”

“Nothing much,” he said. He had a look on his face that reminded her of when he’d been little and she’d caught him trying to steal cookies from the jar.

“Clark Jerome Kent.”

“Ooh, sounds like you’re in trouble, son,” Jonathan joked, coming out from behind the barn. Martha looked at her husband. He was dressed in a new pair of jeans and a clean, white shirt. His hair had been combed back neatly and he’d even shaved. He smiled at her with a gleam in his blue eyes. It reminded her so much of the times before they’d got married, when he’d arrived at her parents’ house for a date.

“Jonathan, what are you …”

He approached the truck and opened the door. Martha could see what looked like a picnic basket on the bench seat.

“Madame,” he said, gesturing with one hand to the passenger seat. Puzzled, Martha got into the truck.

A conspiratorial look passed between father and son and Jonathan got in the driver’s seat. Clark stood at the window.

“Have fun,” was all he said.

Martha was still confused as Jonathan started the truck, the engine rumbling smoothly, sounding no different than earlier.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise,” her husband replied.

She decided there was no point in arguing that she had things to do at home. Like cook dinner, finish the laundry and a number of other chores. Jonathan probably had answers to any objections.

About an hour later they arrived at a very familiar location. Jonathan had taken her many times to what was known as Make Out Point. It was a scenic lookout overlooking the city, a popular spot for teenagers. It was unusually quiet.

“Oh, Jonathan,” she said softly.

“We’re just getting started, sweetheart,” he replied. He got out of the truck and came around, helping her out. He took the picnic basket and a rug, jumping up into the bed of the vehicle, setting out the rug and the picnic, which Martha noted included all her favourites.

He helped her up so they could sit on the rug. They talked as they ate the delicious food, reminiscing about the days before their marriage and everything that had happened since.

The sun began to set as they finished eating. Jonathan got down and leaned inside the cab, turning on the radio. Martha recognised a country music station that was one of Jonathan’s favourites.

He returned to take her hand.

“May I have this dance, little lady?” he asked.

Martha giggled and let him help her down. She went easily into his arms as the music started. She wasn’t surprised to hear her husband singing along with the track. He’d sung to her a few times when he’d been trying to impress her. His deep baritone sang in perfect harmony.

_Maybe I didn’t love you_   
_Quite as often as I could have_   
_Maybe I didn’t treat you_   
_Quite as good as I should have_

_If I made you feel second best_   
_Girl, I’m sorry I was blind_   
_You were always on my mind_   
_You were always on my mind_

When they grew tired of dancing, they sat in the cab, the radio at low volume, arms around each other, just holding each other.

Martha lifted her head and looked at her husband. It had been such a simple thing but she had never felt more loved than she did right now.

“Thank you,” she said. “This was wonderful.”

“All for you, my love,” he replied. “I love you, Martha Kent. So very, very much.”

She kissed him. “I love you too.”


End file.
